


It'll Still Have its Uses

by Inane_Rational



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inane_Rational/pseuds/Inane_Rational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine shows Arthur and Merlin a different use for a quill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'll Still Have its Uses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/profile)[**summerpornathon**](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/) ’s challenge 1 (’11), sex toys.

Gwaine is an utter bastard, him and Arthur both. As these things went, Arthur hadn’t believed a rather exuberant bawdy tale of the knight’s sexual prowess, and Gwaine was astounded that the Prince didn’t know such things to be possible. Thus he proceeded to show Arthur by using Merlin as an example.

It’s his fault really for getting involved with the both of them. He should have stepped away when the posturing started, one trying to outdo the other in physical combat to drinking contests, then eventually for Merlin’s affections. Yet it was also very good that Merlin was quite fond of them both, because their rivalry seems to also extend to their nightly activities in bed, especially the rare moments where they concede to the other’s talents and want to learn from the other.

That’s how it came to be, Merlin lying naked on the bed with his knees up and spread out, panting with a fever that seems to burn right beneath his skin, and wriggling against the heavy feel of his neglected cock. In these specific moments, it’s easier for Merlin to remember the downside of his fondness, because at the moment he grits his teeth, unable to take his own gratification into account. Gwaine had the foresight to bind Merlin’s hands together with his belt, Arthur checking and rebinding whenever Merlin comes close to getting his hands free.

Merlin doesn’t understand how they can stand it. They are both equally naked, their members a turgid red, and have been torturing Merlin for hours—it feels as if it has been hours since they bound and stripped him. He grumbles at the thought that they are enjoying his torment too much to give him relief.

“Arthur,” Merlin pleads to deaf ears, as Arthur sits by his shoulders picking off the remnants of wax from his body, dripped from the candle currently snug inside him. Arthur smiles proudly at Merlin’s state of arousal, to have Gwaine concede on the candle’s usefulness—being the Prince of Camelot, the royal had candles to spare. Now Gwaine is searching for something near Arthur’s desk, and as the last of the wax peels off his chest, Arthur moves between Merlin’s spread legs and begins to pump the oil-slicked candle in and out of Merlin’s body, ignoring Merlin’s continual pleas for mercy.

“Gwaine,” Merlin whimpers, turning his attention to the knight on the other side of the room. Merlin finds himself to be equally ignored as Gwaine inspects the length of a quill, its quality indicated by the long length of the feather’s quill and shaft, and the soft feel of the feathers on his fingertips. Merlin imagines it’s his cock that Gwaine is stroking, gentle fingers running up and down his length. Gwaine smirks at Merlin, seeing that he has an audience, rubbing the broken nib of the quill as he swaggers to the bed. A quick flick of his knife cuts off the quill’s sharpened point. Gwaine settles himself near Merlin’s hip where Arthur is still thrusting in the candle, making sure to rub and press into the right places in Merlin’s body.

“I’ll have you know that was of the highest quality,” Arthur says to Gwaine, whom responds with a devilish grin. Merlin wriggles even more, trying to place attention on his neglected cock.

“It’ll still have its uses,” Gwaine says, drawing a line on the inside of Merlin’s thigh with the light feathery touch of the quill. He continually draws the same pattern into either side of Merlin’s thighs. Merlin can make out the various letters of his torturers’ name from the feather’s touch, which only makes him snort at Gwaine, whom responds by sucking a mark into his hip.

“Is that what you had to show me? Because I can tell you—“

“Don’t worry, Princess, I haven’t even gotten started.” Gwaine kisses Arthur, and Merlin groans at the sight, the feather caressing his balls in the knight’s distraction with the prince. “Go sit up there,” he gestures to Arthur’s previous placement by Merlin’s head, as Gwaine wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock, taking special care to hold him tightly at the base. Arthur eagerly takes his place, too curious about the quill to fuss about Gwaine ordering him around.

Gwaine begins to pump Merlin’s cock with his hand, laughing at Merlin’s angry glares. “Would you like me to suck you off?” He teases. At Merlin’s enthusiastic nod, Gwaine laughs and goes to kiss the tip of his cock. “It’s tempting, but I have something to teach Arthur here.”

Merlin groans and turns to Arthur to plead with him again, only to find disappointment as both knights share a devious smile with each other. Arthur quickly silences Merlin with a kiss, stopping any argument he may put forth.

Merlin can’t see what Gwaine is doing with the quill as he kisses Arthur back, making sure to bite his lip for good measure. He can feel Gwaine playing with the foreskin of his cock, rubbing him in ways that makes Merlin want to come, if it weren’t for Gwaine’s hold at the base. Gwaine drags the nib-end of the quill, drawing lightly on the underside of his cock, from between his ball to the ridge of the head. It’s so light that Merlin wonders if he’s imagining the thin line of oil mixing with the pre-come that’s already trickled from the slit of his cock, where Gwaine tongues and presses his nails to, with considerable fixation. It’s with a jolt that Merlin realizes what Gwaine’s going to do, or maybe Merlin’s learnt how to read mind with his magic. He shivers at the thought and pulls away from Arthur’s kisses to see _exactly_ what the knight’s up to.

The moment their eyes meet, Merlin’s breathe catches. Seeing Merlin’s dawning realization, Gwaine incorrigible roguish smile grows even wider, and with Arthur’s attention on the exchange, he drags the nib of the quill up Merlin’s cock and positions it right at the head—the opening of the slit trickling pre-come freely. Arthur’s own eyes widen right before Gwaine pushes the quill _into_ Merlin’s cock. Merlin jerks in surprise, despite knowing it was going to happen, and Arthur instantly goes to hold his hips down, devouring the sight of the quill disappearing down with a ravenous hunger.

Merlin had thought it was weird having the candle pushed into him, rather than the burning heat of Arthur or Gwaine’s turgid cocks. The candle didn’t have that warmth or the girth to really fill him, and was shaped so smoothly that it felt odd to have the oil-slicked wax rod being worked in and out, massaging the muscles there in different ways.

The quill is much the same, yet so _very_ different. He’s never had the feeling of fullness right down his cock, where Gwaine slowly inserts the quill, and it makes Merlin’s mind swirl as his balls seem to respond in kind. He can feel the work that went into creating the quill, taking the feather and forming it as a comfortable writing tool. Merlin can feel the smoothness that Arthur and Gwaine had both handled, as it slips in further and further. Merlin lifts his head to watch Arthur’s fascination and Gwaine’s concentration, the latter’s eyes fixed completely upon him.

The mischievous spark in Gwaine’s eyes begins to burn brighter, which doesn’t allow Merlin a chance to protest as Gwaine pulls the quill out an inch. Once the quill is almost out, Gwaine slowly pushes it back in even deeper. Merlin slams his head back down onto the pillow, his back arching with the sensation of carnal agony. He knows Gwaine is simply being extra careful, but the push and pull of the quill is so slow it allows Merlin to register every ache in his cock and body, from the stretch of his cock to accept the foreign intrusion to the hard press of Arthur’s fingers holding him down to the bed.

He’s shaking by the time the quill can go has far down into his cock as it can, and when Gwaine pulls back to admire his work, Arthur lets go as well.

“This is ridiculous,” Merlin growls, looking at the white feathers protruding from the slit of his cock. Gwaine had stopped right where the feathers protrude out, as if the soft vanes were sprouting from his cock, following a gentle arch downwards by its weight. The more Merlin looks, the more the white feather gives him the image of his coming shooting out like so. It only made Merlin whimpers at the thought.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself well enough.” Gwaine chuckles and bends down to lick up Merlin’s length. Arthur is fascinated as he reaches out a tentative hand and touches where the quill disappears down the slit. As Arthur continues to probe with gentle fingers, Gwaine reaches to play with the candle causing Merlin to groan at the both of them.

Merlin wants to come, needs it in fact, but it almost feels like he can’t with the writing utensil stuffed down his cock. He wonders if his come will fill up the hollow quill, if it could push it out, if he can even come, because Merlin’s not sure that he can. It couldn’t be possible with the object holding him on the edge of pleasure.

“Is it too much?” Arthur asks with the slight tone of worry in his voice, pulling at the feathers and looking to Gwaine for guidance. He cautiously pushes the quill back in when it pulled out slightly from his exploration. Gwaine keeps himself busy pushing and pulling the candle like Arthur had demonstrated before, watching the way the hole’s rim stretches as the candle gets wider, even more when he lets a few fingers slip in. Sometimes it flutters when the only thing left in Merlin is the candle’s wick, which he can see it doesn’t satisfy Merlin at all.

Arthur on the other hand is more hesitant, unsure about the safety about the quill’s insertion, yet too turned on to object. He runs a finger along the shaft, having the unintentional effect of sending small vibrations right into Merlin’s cock, and the only things Merlin can do is lie still on Arthur’s bed and take it from the both of them.

There’s a tremor inside Merlin trying to burst forth. It’s like the feel of magic right before he cast a spell, that tingle flowing down his arms, up his sides, becoming the very breath he speaks. But this sort of shiver almost works to destroy him from the inside: his heart pounding in his chest, his muscles burning and tightening, and his hands clench the sheets beneath him. He’s not even sure when Gwaine’s belt had come undone, the leather restraint almost tossed off the bed.

When Merlin feels a firm grip upon the quill’s shaft, he knows it’ll only get worse for him. Arthur slowly pulls the quill out, amazed by the long length that unsheathes from his member, shiny with oil. Then with careful precision he works it back in, the shaft sliding down, then pulled a little up before going even deeper, exactly as Gwaine had done. Merlin tries not to squirm through the repeat of pleasure--even Gwaine has the mind not to thrust the candle.

Eventually Arthur has the quill as it were, and when both Gwaine and Arthur smile at each other after pulling away from another kiss, Merlin knows to brace himself.

Arthur begins working the quill in tandem with the new pace Gwaine sets, slowed down to match the careful precision the quill required. There are either tears or sweat in Merlin’s eyes, perhaps a combination of both, when he begins to beg. “Please?” He hoarsely whispers, saying it over and over.

They both stare at him, sinking into the desperation in Merlin’s eyes, and finally seem to take some mercy upon him. They give each other a single look, before pushing in each object as deeply as it can go and taking their hands away. They crawl up Merlin’s body to take turns kissing the corner of his mouth, forehead, neck, and jaw, continuing on a journey down. Gwaine leaves Arthur to lick and bite at Merlin’s nipples, and goes back to Merlin’s almost purple cock.

“Please,” Merlin silently mouths, too tired to speak. Gwaine gives in with a gentle rub on his sore thighs, before wrapping a hand around Merlin and _pulls_. Merlin’s body begins to thrum, his muscles seizing so much that even his throat locks up so he can’t scream his pleasure. The worst and best of it is the feel of the come slowly working its way out, pushing around the quill, stretching him further, and pulsing out to smear the feathers and his body. He doesn’t need to look to see Arthur watching it all in captivation, or Gwaine’s entitled smile of victory. Merlin’s too drowsy to do anything but fall into a blissful haze.

The quill is gently taken out, sending shivers and causing his groin to wring in a pleasurable way. The candle is pulled out less ceremoniously as Arthur quickly flips him over, Gwaine readjusting his legs to spread him out as he lies on his stomach. Merlin practises slow breaths into the pillow, readying himself to simply feel his knights take turns coming inside him. It’d be a while before they would, Arthur battling Gwaine and vice versa, pushing his pleasure until he’s thrashing beneath them.

They could be utter bastards.  



End file.
